


sparkle

by AndyAO3



Category: overwatch
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: Wherein Genji hates himself and McCree tries, bless his heart.





	sparkle

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this because I heard a song and it made me want to write things. You can look the song up if you want, it's in the title. Also hey y'all I'm back just in time to be gone again because my GF's visiting for two weeks. >.>
> 
> *quietly vibrates* eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

McCree stood up from the bench and held out his hand, which Genji could only stare at. "Come with me," he said.

Genji's brow furrowed. Beneath his mask, he dragged his teeth over his ruined lower lip. "Why?"

"I wanna show you somethin'." McCree smirked. It was the kind of smirk that could win the heart of anyone in the world. Genji recognized it, having practiced getting such an expression right for ages in front of a mirror before. Had McCree practiced such a thing as well, or did it come naturally to him?

With some hesitation, Genji replied, "I shouldn't." Then, because an excuse was needed, "Reyes is expecting me."

McCree rolled his eyes, blew at his hair. "To hell with what the boss wants. He can wait, can't he? Ain't like you'll forget nothin'."

"Where is it you wish to take me?" Genji asked. He continued to stare at McCree's hand like it offended him. (The only thing that offended him about McCree's hands was that he wore his gloves so often, hiding them from view; they were beautiful hands, solid and strong and lovely to look at, and Genji couldn't help marvelling at them sometimes.)

"Someplace nice." McCree made a beckoning motion. "C'mon."

Genji debated this internally for a moment. Knowing McCree, it was probably something stupid that only the cowboy could register as _nice_. But then, if Genji didn't want to go - or if he wanted to leave in the middle of being shown whatever this nice thing was - then he could say so and he'd be allowed to leave. McCree wasn't one to try and force people to do things they didn't want to do, nor did he have enough guile to manipulate people into such things. Sighing, Genji stood and stepped away from the cafeteria table, taking his tablet with him (even though he'd agreed to sit with McCree at mealtimes in the name of "being social," he had his own meals in his quarters so that his mask never had to come off) and looking at McCree pointedly.

An awkward moment ensued as McCree realized his hand wasn't about to be taken, and he jammed said hands right back into his pockets with a nervous throat-clearing sound. "Alright then, uh... Just follow along then, I guess."

Without a word, Genji followed.

It was dinnertime, so much of the Gibraltar base was empty. The huge hangar bays echoed with McCree's jingling footfalls, and even Genji's own strides fell too loudly against his auditory sensors. He noticed in the gloom that McCree's posture was stiff, disquieted-- the man moved as if he were afraid, but of what, Genji couldn't say. All he knew was that McCree was doing his damnedest to make himself look small as they walked, through a doorway and past the large hangar doors into the warm, humid outside air. The sun hung low in the sky just around the corner, painting the horizon in warm firelit hues.

Up the stairs, past storage crates hung with tarps and shelves stocked with mission supplies, McCree stopped at the railing that overlooked the sea. To the west, the water shimmered with the last vestiges of daylight-- but Genji was watching McCree instead, blinking as the man pulled out his phone along with an empty cleaning bucket that had been sitting near the stairs.

"You prob'ly ain't too aware'a this, seein' as you ain't had reason to resort to this kinda thing growin' up the way you did, but uh--" he tapped out something on his phone before setting it down inside the bucket, "where I come from, I ain't ever really had the spare cash for any'a them fancy surround-sound speaker things, so--"

"I understand the concept, McCree."

"Alright then, okay, yeah." He set the bucket down; music began to play from it, a soft piano intro in a three-fourths - or was it six-eighths? - time signature. Then he took a deep breath to steady himself, and let it out nice and slow. Genji merely blinked at him.

He straightened out, shoulders back and chest puffed out with the false confidence of a man who is desperately trying to convince himself that something can't possibly go _too_ badly, and held out his hand like before. There was a vulnerability to him that Genji had rarely seen, startling in its sincerity; Genji was at a loss, having never been an especially sincere person himself in the past. The concept was utterly novel.

"Dance with me?" came the question.

Genji stared. "What?"

"I'm serious." McCree's expression sank as he seemed to steel himself for rejection. "Just this once."

"Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" That hand remained outstretched; McCree smiled. "Promise I won't step on your toes too much."

"I don't--" _have toes_ , Genji was about to say, but he stopped himself. When he spoke again, it was quieter, his words deliberately chosen. "I don't dance," he said.

"Ain't nothin' to it. I can teach it to ya." That hadn't been what Genji had meant, but McCree's eyes said he knew that already. He knew, and he was giving Genji an excuse to save face and try anyway-- or to leave without reproach.

Genji continued to stare as the main melody line of the music kicked in. The words were in Japanese; had McCree picked it on purpose, just for him? For that matter, did McCree even know what the words meant? He could imagine the cowboy looking it up just as easily as he could see it not being the case at all.

But as the first stanza played on, he realized it didn't matter. Songs about fairytale forever-love were either painfully sincere or over-the-top cheesy, and Jesse McCree was a man capable of both things. Even if it was neither - if McCree genuinely didn't know what he'd picked out - then the intent was still clear: he wanted to do something for Genji, and had blundered ahead with that goal in mind (without regard for the implications) because such things mattered to a man like Jesse McCree, who believed in justice and goodness and righting perceived wrongs-- in particular, the wrongs he thought Genji had been undeservedly put through.

So Genji took McCree's hand and let himself be led, and there was such relief on the man's face that Genji was entranced by the sight; allowing his hands to be moved to shoulder and waist, allowing McCree to guide his feet with gentle nudges and slow, measured steps.

"See? Ain't so bad." Beneath his hat, McCree's tanned features were lit up with a grin. He looked so young when he grinned like that. "Nice and slow."

Genji averted his eyes quickly, ducking his head. "I suppose." It wasn't bad, as dancing went. A bit slow and chaste compared to what he was used to, but--

A gasp was pulled from his lungs as McCree swung him around in time with the swell of the music's chorus, bending him backward at the waist and pulling him far, far closer than Genji could've possibly anticipated. That grin was still there, but by that point it had turned cocky and proud. Genji didn't have it in him to disagree with that particular self-assessment. "I've had some practice."

"I could tell," Genji made himself say. When they came back up, he was properly in McCree's arms, no longer held at a distance. If he wanted to, he could count the man's eyelashes. "I--"

"You're beautiful, y'know that?" The words came out in another unexpected burst of sincerity as the dancing slowed, McCree's attention refocusing on what he could see of Genji's face. The lyrics to the song talked about forever and fate in the background as he was framed in silhouette by the setting sun, stark contrasts playing across the lines of a handsome face. A face Genji wouldn't have hesitated with before, but now...

No, he hadn't been worth that look before either. Hanzo had simply woken him to the fact.

Warm, strong fingers cupped the metal of his mask, turning his face upward. "Genji," he said. When had his voice gotten so low, so smooth? "Look at you. Ain't nobody in this world like you."

"That isn't a compliment." All over again, Genji felt hollow, numb. A selfish part of him wondered if McCree could help-- if it wouldn't be easier to give in to what McCree was trying to say. Because it was obvious - _clear as day_ , as the cowboy would say - that the poor man didn't realize just how unworthy Genji was, and was putting him on some kind impossible pedestal that made him worth saving or helping or whatever. Genji had no doubt whatsoever that McCree believed in him.

But that wasn't the problem. "I know you ain't asked for any'a this," the cowboy said, undeterred, "but you got people who care about you, darlin'."

"Then these people who care about me are fools."

"Maybe we are," he conceded, "but ain't it better to let that kinda foolishness ride sometimes if it helps make things a little better?"

The music had softened to the piano again for a bridge, a long stretch of it undercutting McCree's words. Genji stared at him for what felt like forever as the lyrics picked up again, gentler and more wistful. Talking about loss, and how even if the singer couldn't have forever, he'd still hold every scrap of memory close. Even if the bits about forever were silly and unrealistic, this part didn't seem as terrible. Sad, yes, but--

\--but he _wanted_. He wanted so badly for McCree to be right, wanted to be salvageable, to be cared about for who and what he was. Selfish as it was, he wanted to give in, even if he didn't deserve it and it couldn't last and McCree would just get hurt in the end.

Wordlessly, he stepped back and out of McCree's arms, closing his eyes as he reached for the clasps and fastenings of his mask. His face was a ruin underneath it, with a prosthetic nose and a scarred seam where carbon mesh met skin above his jaw, and he knew he was hideous. But McCree had long since proven that he didn't care about the damage, that Genji was safe in showing himself when he had to.

Confusion was clear on McCree's face by the time the mask was off and set aside. Then Genji leaned in and kissed him, and his eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline-- a moment of silence was followed by the music sweeping into a powerful crescendo as Genji felt him respond. His beard was itchy, and his lips were rough and chapped, and even to Genji's dysfunctional senses he smelled and tasted like smoke. It was real, almost real enough to make everything seem true.

When they parted for air afterward and McCree grinned like he'd just been handed the world, Genji felt just a bit less hollow.

"Hell, darlin'." He licked his lips, chuckled quietly. The last verse played in the background, weighty implications set to light, sweet music. "I really hope you ain't screwin' with me."

Genji huffed. "I make no promises," he said.

"That's fine." McCree ran a hand through his hair and he leaned into it like a particularly touch-starved cat. "Just so long as we're clear on how much you've went'n got my hopes up just now. I'm gonna have expectations."

"As long as _you_ are clear that I am not one you should expect anything from," Genji replied.

"Like I said, that's fine. So long as I get to love on you a little." That hand moved until it was holding Genji's face, thumb tracing along a scar. "You're actin' like I don't know how you get when you get to bein' all up inside your head like you do. The words 'meaner'n a hornet' ended up gettin' used in an official debrief once."

"A hornet," Genji repeated.

"Yeah, uh. It's like a bee, but it's bigger, meaner, and it don't stop after the first sting."

"And yet you still associate with me."

"Well, ain't like I've ever been accused'a bein' sensible."

Deciding that it would be rude to verbally agree, Genji went in for another kiss instead, and tried not to smile when the action made McCree bubble up with a laugh.

Foolish, weren't they? Surely they'd come to regret this tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, the next day, or the next. Someday McCree would realize that Genji wasn't worth caring about and never would be, and then he'd leave and that would be the end of it. But until then, Genji was just selfish enough to enjoy this, if only for a while. Until then, he could pretend that someone really did care about him for who he was.

(And years later, after the regrets had come and gone, he'd realize that McCree really had cared after all.)

 


End file.
